let me be the one (who never leaves you all alone)
by ohmyloki
Summary: Steve couldn't pinpoint when it started, when he no longer saw Tony as just a teammate but a friend instead, nor when the warm glow of friendship started to shift and turn into something with a little more heat. Steve/Tony, Post-Avengers AU.


A/N: Written for the 2013 Cap-Iron Man Reverse Big Bang. Master post can be found here.

It all started in the garage.

No, wait. For Tony, it all started in the garage.

For Steve, it all started in the gym.

As to be expected it was the middle of the night and Tony had just gotten through another marathon session in his lab. He was still hopped up on caffeine and the rush of changing the world for the better one technological step—or rather leap—at a time (he had never been one for taking an inch when he could take a mile). In an effort to exhaust more than just his mind, he decided to drag his nubile, young—shut it, Clint—body down to the gym.

Someone, no matter what hour of the day, always seemed to be awake on one of the levels of the tower that had been delegated Avengers use only. Therefore, Tony hadn't been entirely surprised to see Steve working away at the heavy bag, the steady _thunk _alerting Tony to his presence long before he actually entered the gym.

"Late night, Cap?" Tony asked as he strode over to the treadmill.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, not breaking his rhythm, acknowledging Tony's presence. "Couldn't sleep."

"Imagine not, with as much as you've had."

Steve grunted in response. Tony, despite reports to the contrary, knew when he wasn't wanted. A good majority of the time he simply ignored it but tonight he kept his mouth shut, pressed a few buttons on the treadmill, and hopped on to warm himself up to a jog.

The gym was mostly silent, the only sound the steady sound of Steve's fists against the bag... and maybe some heavy breathing coming from Tony. Aware of Steve's dislike of Tony's music, he let the silence linger and became absorbed in his own thoughts. His mind was a never ending list of things to do; upgrades to the suit, new toys he wanted to make for assorted members of the team, excuses he could use to avoid the next few meetings, and a list of gifts that would hopefully buy Pepper's forgiveness.

He was so wrapped up in wondering whether Pepper would prefer a red or gold paint job on the car he was planning on buying her, he didn't notice the absence of sound in the room. Not until he was alerted to the creepy-crawly feeling of being watched. He looked over and saw Steve, arms crossed over his chest, watching him with a narrow gaze.

Tony smirked. "I know I've got a great ass, Cap, but you could just ask JARVIS for a picture."

Steve ignored the remark but the slight tinge of red to the tips of his ears was more than enough to merit Tony's satisfaction.

"I don't see you down here much, Tony."

Tony shrugged and kept jogging. "You and Thor do pretty well being the team's resident beefcakes. Wouldn't want to upset the status quo."

Steve rolled his eyes. "What I meant was that I never see you down here sparring with the rest of us. Do you have any kind of training in hand to hand combat?"

"Sure. I box with Happy every once in awhile."

Tony didn't even have to look; he could practically feel Steve's patented Stare of Disapproval. He sighed. "That's kind of the point of having a multi-million dollar, virtually indestructible, suit of armor, Steve. It tends to supersede the need for getting my ass kicked around the gym by friendlies."

He watched from the corner of his eye as Steve walked over, arms still folded. "There are two things wrong with that sentence."

Tony turned his head to look at him. "Actually, I'm pretty sure everything I just said is fact."

Steve raised his eyebrows and gave him the I-know-you're-a-genius-Tony-but-right-now-you're-k ind-of-an-idiot look that had become surprisingly common amongst the various members of the team. Tony pressed the stop button on the treadmill and mirrored Steve's position, arms crossed and leaning back against the handrail.

"Alright, thrill me."

Steve sighed but held up a finger. "One, _virtually _indestructible. The Hulk—"

Tony rolled his eyes. "You know as well as I do that he'd never do that on purpose. What happened with the Hulk was a complete accident. And hilarious. I would've kept the suit the way it was, because how often do you get a near perfect imprint of the Hulk's ass, but waste not want not."

"You are the last person who should be saying that phrase," Steve shook his head. "It was a miracle that you weren't in the suit at the time."

Tony hummed. "Can you imagine the headlines? 'Genius Ganked by Gigantic Green Gluteus'. They do appreciate a good alliteration."

Steve sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Shut up, Stark."

Tony grinned. "Nice—"

"Secondly," Steve interrupted loudly. "What if you don't _have _the suit?"

Tony waved him off with his hand. "Unlikely. I haven't been caught without it yet. Matter of fact, the suit has actually caught _me _more than once. Mid-air."

Steve's lips thinned into a straight line. "I know. I remember," he said flatly.

"Well there you go."

"Just because it hasn't happened _yet, _doesn't mean it won't happen at all. You should train with me. Or at least one of the others." Steve paused for a moment. "I'll even go easy on you, old man," he finished with a smirk.

Tony narrowed his eyes. He knew what Steve was doing. He was goading him. Tony shouldn't give in. He really shouldn't. And he might not have, were it not for the smirk. It was the kind of smirk that did not belong anywhere near Captain America's face. No, that was a Steve Rogers smirk and while Tony knew he had no chance against Captain America, he thought that maybe he had a chance against Steve Rogers. Tony may be a certified genius but he never claimed that his brain always made sense, so he gave in. He always gave in to Steve.

"Alright, Rogers. Bring it."

Steve grinned at him and turned to walk towards the mat in the middle of the gym. Tony rolled his shoulders a few times before hopping off the treadmill and following him over. _Old man _his ass. He may not have the training per se, but Tony was wily and ingenuity was obviously one of his strongest characteristics, the fact that he was still alive was more than testament to that.

Barely twenty minutes later, flat on the mat and dragging air into his lungs like each breath could be his last, Tony's thoughts on the situation were vastly different. Steve stood over him, looking down at him with his hands on his hips, eyebrows raised.

"Had enough, Stark?"

Tony let out an unintelligible string of sounds between breaths, attempting to tell Steve just what he thought of him, and raised an arm to flip him off. Steve laughed and walked over to the fridge, grabbing a small bottle of water before coming back and sitting down on the mat next to Tony, handing him the drink.

Tony focused his concentration on getting his respiration back under control. Once he felt like he could speak without worrying about his heart leaping out of his mouth, he struggled up, leaning on his elbow facing Steve and took a long drink out of the bottle.

"To be honest," Steve said, "you did much better than I was expecting."

"Stuff it, Rogers."

Steve just kept right on smiling. Tony gave him a once over, noticed the distinct lack of sweat, and was torn between wanting to throw the bottle at Steve's smug face and wondering just what kind of activities it would take to get him sweating. He grinned at the last thought and leered up at Steve.

"You know, the last time I ended up drenched with sweat after being manhandled onto my back by another guy, it had a completely different ending," he said with a wink.

Tony expected Steve to brush off the comment and change the topic or to just say '_Tony'_ in that tone of voice he was so fond of. So he was a bit surprised when Steve seemed to just stare at him for a moment with a small crease in his forehead, considering. He tilted his head slightly and his face smoothed out, eyes crystal clear.

"Is that so?" Steve asked, leaning in slightly.

There was a tone in his voice that Tony couldn't place and having been caught off kilter, accustomed to Steve ignoring his more outrageous comments, Tony's brain was left scrambling for words.

"You're more than welcome to find out," he finally responded, hitching an eyebrow. Not his best line, but it would do.

Steve regarded him for a moment longer before he simply hummed in response and got back up on his feet. He offered a hand to Tony, who allowed himself to be pulled up, his thighs protesting at the movement. He was still breathing hard when Steve clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. "I'd say there's hope for you yet. We'll have you up to snuff before you know it."

"Ugh." Tony couldn't imagine doing this regularly.

Steve ignored him. "You should work on your flexibility before next time. Natasha's been showing me something called yoga. See if she's willing to help you."

Tony made a mental note to check out the gym surveillance logs, that was definitely something he needed to see. Preferably when he was alone.

"Next time? Sure. Just, you know, give me a few weeks to grow a new set of lungs."

Steve just chuckled in response, picked up his towel and walked out of the room. Tony stood there, enjoying the view as he left.

* * *

"Tony," Steve sighed.

"Yes, dear?"

Steve was long past the point of bristling when Tony addressed him with terms of endearment, though he wasn't quite ready to admit to the light, warm feeling in his chest that the words caused.

"What are you doing here?"

Tony rested his hip casually on the side of the car, peering down at the engine block.

"I think the better question, mon Capitán, is what are you doing here? I wasn't aware that S.H.I.E.L.D. was giving courses in automotive repair." He made a face, "Should I be offended? I feel like I should. You're living in the same building as the guy who created the most advanced piece of technology in the world, a guy who has more cars than he knows what to do with, and you didn't come to me?"

"Tony—" Steve started but Tony rambled on.

"Clearly you didn't come to me. I would remember that. Which only means that you went to someone else because while this car may be considered vintage to me—"

"Tony." Steve said loudly, cutting him off. Steve straightened up and wiped his hands on a rag. "What. Are you doing here?"

Tony grinned. "It seems a certain someone pulled me out of my lab last night, despite my very loud and very logical protests."

Steve stood back and crossed his arms over his chest. "'Because science!' is not a logical protest, Tony."

"Do you realize that you've said my name four times in the past five minutes? Be careful you don't wear it out, Steve, I don't think you could afford to buy me a new one." Steve rolled his eyes. Tony just shrugged, eyeing the car as he made his way around it.

"I'll have you know that my reasoning is infallible even if you don't agree with it." Tony said and then waved his hand in the air in front of him. "But that's all immaterial to the point I'm trying to make right now. It seems that the same Cro-Magnon that carried me out of my lab colluded with my A.I. to keep me out of said lab for a full twenty-four hours. Now, I've already had words with said A.I. so here are my words for you: You ever pick me up like that again and I don't care if you are the super-est soldier to ever super-soldier, I _will _find a way to hurt you."

"You need to rest, Tony. You also need to ingest something more substantial than coffee. Our lives are dangerous enough without putting ourselves at risk of scurvy. Now, I may not be one of the world's smartest men—"

"_One _of?" Tony huffed.

"—but I am smart enough to drink a glass of orange juice on occasion."

Tony hopped up on the trunk, feigning indignation. "I ingest substantial things! I ate a grilled cheese sandwich."

Steve didn't remember a stove in the workshop, and the confusion must have been evident on his face.

"Alright, it was a quasi-grilled cheese sandwich," Tony amended.

Steve screwed the cap back on the oil tank before shutting the hood, not wanting to know what Tony was talking about. He walked to the rear of the car and looked at the man, raising his eyebrows. Tony simply stared back innocently. Steve gave in. He always gave in to Tony.

"Tony."

"The last time someone said my name this often, there was a lot more touching involved." Tony grinned up at him.

Ignoring that, Steve continued. "You still haven't explained why you're down here harassing me."

"You dragged me out of my workshop and had JARVIS lock me out of doing pretty much anything of value for twenty-four hours. I slept, I ate and now there are ten hours left on my sentence, and I can't even do anything outside of sending a text message on my phone. And, let me tell you, spamming Clint with bird jokes can only amuse me for so long."

Steve knew that if Tony really put his mind to it, he could override JARVIS whenever he wanted. The fact that he was allowing this to happen, allowing Steve to 'mother-hen' him, was only a testament to how far they had come since that day on the Helicarrier. He searched Tony's face for a moment while he thought.

"Basically everything you just said can be boiled down to two words. You're bored."

Tony scoffed. "When you say it like that it sounds so plebeian. What I am," he said, "is lacking in proper stimulation for a man of my intellect."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "What would you consider proper stimulation?"

"I'm sure you can think of something, Cap."

Here was his chance, a golden opportunity—not that Tony didn't give him plenty just like it. Steve took a deep breath and a step forward, positioning himself between Tony's spread knees. He was definitely in the man's personal space. He was close enough to be just on the wrong side of proper should anyone see. Steve let his eyes drop down to Tony's legs, noticing how the fabric of his jeans stretched enticingly across his thighs.

Steve hadn't thought Tony was the kind to put in long hours at the gym, but Steve had caught glimpses of him in various stages of undress. It happened surprisingly often when one was on a team of superheroes tasked with saving the world. The manual labor Tony did in his lab, the use of the Iron Man suit, it all showed in his strong shoulders. Shoulders that stretched t-shirts thin across his chest, making the arc reactor show more brightly than it should have. While Tony wasn't as bulky as Steve, he could not only see the muscle definition, but their late night sparring sessions had given him ample opportunity to feel exactly how firm the other man was. Tony hadn't been lying that first night in the gym, either. He did have a nice ass. One that Steve often found himself contemplating when Tony's back was turned.

Which brought him back to his current position between Tony's legs. Steve let his eyes slide up the length of Tony's firm thighs to the frayed hem of the t-shirt. He lingered a bit around the arc reactor, before tracing up the column of Tony's throat, smiling a little at the meticulously shaved facial hair. Finally he met Tony's eyes, which had widened considerably with Steve's obvious display.

"I'm sure you're right about that," he said, holding Tony's gaze and leaning in an inch.

Tony looked up at him with his wide, curious eyes and time stood still for that moment. Steve involuntarily leaned even closer, as if Tony had his own gravitational pull. And maybe he did, from the way people seemed to be inextricably drawn to him despite his sometimes brash nature. Tony's eyes were appraising as they flicked back and forth between Steve's.

The moment was broken when Tony snapped out of it and flinched back slightly, shutting his eyes for a moment before looking back up at Steve. "What—"

The alarms blared overhead.

"Sir, if you would please make your way to the lab, I have prepared the latest armor for assembly."

Steve allowed himself a second to mourn the loss of the moment while JARVIS spoke, before he straightened up and got his mind ready for battle.

"Meet you on the roof?" Tony asked, hopping off the car and already heading towards the elevator.

"Is this what you had in mind for 'proper stimulation'?" Steve threw over his shoulder as he broke into a jog towards the stairwell.

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

Steve usually didn't let his mind wander in a battle. All his focus and attention was on tactical planning. He needed to be aware at all times of where his team was, what they were doing, and prepared to analyze the movements and patterns of the enemy. He had to be ready to shout a new order at a moments notice.

Today, however, the enemy was both laughably easy to take down and seemed virtually mindless. The problem simply lay in numbers. By Tony's estimation nearly five hundred mechanical spiders, about the size of an average Rottweiler, were crawling around Midtown. They weren't particularly harmful, the only weapon the Avengers had noticed so far was an ability to shoot small electric shocks from the 'spinners' on their rear ends. They weren't very strong either and as long as you stayed in front of them, there was nothing to worry about.

After they had figured that out, Steve had shrugged and given blanket permission to the team to take them all down—and permission for Tony to keep one or two to analyze later.

Now it had turned into a melee of sorts. The citizens had long since evacuated and the entire team was... well, they were having fun. It was pure, mindless destruction, and an incredible stress reliever. Steve could hear Clint arguing with Natasha about whether his use of an explosive arrow on a group of spider-bots should count as more than one kill.

"It does not matter, my friends! I will have bested both of you by the time this battle is finished," Thor said, confident as always. Steve could hear the laughter in his voice.

Overhead, Steve heard the familiar whine of the repulsors and he smiled to himself as he threw his shield. It skimmed along the building, slicing a few of the spider-bots in half, their bodies falling to the ground, legs twitching. It was almost insulting how easy it was to take them down and Steve allowed his thoughts to drift.

He knew Tony was an attractive man. Objectively, Steve recognized that every single member of the Avengers was attractive; he knew beauty when he saw it. But with Tony it was more than that. Steve couldn't pinpoint when it started, when he no longer saw Tony as just a teammate but a friend instead, nor when the warm glow of friendship started to shift and turn into something with a little more heat.

Tony was always quick with a line and a wink. He flirted like he breathed, like it was just this thing that his body did to stay alive. At first Steve had been quick to blush and sputter in response, still unused to both the attention and the fact that it was a man giving it to him so openly, but as time passed that had changed. And the more he saw Tony interact with other people, the more he knew that nothing was meant by it and he learned to simply ignore the leers that Tony threw his way.

It was that night in the gym, the offhand comment from Tony, that finally struck a real chord with Steve. Those words had sent Steve's mind reeling, full of images of Tony's bare skin writhing underneath him, Steve's hands gripping the pliant muscle of Tony's thighs. He had been so concerned about Tony's actions he'd never once considered his own reactions, his own desires. Suddenly it was like all the wheels in his mind started turning, everything clicking into place.

While sometimes he felt the need to leave the room because there simply wasn't enough space for Tony, his ego, and Steve, Tony had the credentials to back it up and Steve knew it. His breath would catch in his throat when he found himself the sole focus of Tony's attention. It was terrifying and awe-inspiring to be up front and center in the mind of a genius, the mind behind Iron Man, the person responsible for saving countless lives through his own actions and through his technological innovations. How many soldiers' lives had he saved just because he couldn't sleep one night and decided he could do better than Kevlar? Steve felt he was more than justified in being struck momentarily breathless under the weight of that attention.

Tony had noticed Steve's tendency to mill about while he was working and while Tony didn't mind him in the shop, DUM-E had habit of following Steve around like a lost puppy. Steve couldn't keep track of the number of times Tony had threatened the bot with being relegated to the janitorial staff at Stark Industries after he had bumped into another work station, scattering tools everywhere. At some point they came to a mutual agreement that maybe it was for the best that Steve stay an in relatively stationary spot while visiting the lab. That's where Steve would sometimes sit just watching from the corner of the lab Tony had set up for him. Far too often, Steve found his eyes lingering on the shifting of muscle, revealed by one of Tony's tank tops, while he worked on the armor.

Tony, though Steve knew he didn't believe it himself, was a good man through and through. They all had their demons, and Tony was working particularly hard to exorcise his. And while he may act a little aloof, like he was above what others thought of him, Steve knew it was an act. He could see it in Tony's eyes, the flashes of vulnerability, the first time most notably on the Helicarrier when he had declared, '_we are not soldiers!'_

He could see how Tony cared. Maybe he didn't show his affection the way Thor did, with broad smiles and hugs that threatened to cut off his air supply, but he could see it in the way that Tony never stopped working for the team. He was constantly upgrading and inventing to help keep them safe. But it was also in the small smile that settled on Tony's lips when they all happened to be in the tower at the same time, relaxed into the couches, a movie on the television and Clint seeing how many pieces of popcorn he could throw into Bruce's hair before he noticed.

It was Tony's wide, brilliant eyes, the rare full-blown smile when he'd accomplished something he'd struggled with, the way he couldn't seem to stop himself from talking when he came up with a new idea and wanted to show off. Like an excited little kid, ever at odds with the man who drank too much and thought too little of himself. These thoughts of Tony's kindness, generosity and brilliant mind ran an undercurrent beneath the fantasy of Tony's slick, tanned skin, and perfectly shaped upper lip. That was when it struck Steve.

Maybe he could have this. Maybe he could have Tony... if Tony would have him.

He'd have to gauge how Tony truly felt about him. He knew the flirtation had little to no meaning behind it. But maybe if he dropped a hint here and there, see how Tony responded...

Steve caught a jumping spider-bot mid air and slammed it back onto the ground with considerable force.

No. Steve wasn't interested in playing games. Their lives, this line of work, he wasn't willing to risk it. Tomorrow was never a given, and if he had the choice he'd rather spend tonight with Tony. He'd made up his mind and, currently fuelled by adrenaline, now seemed as good a time as any to act.

"Tony. About what I said earlier," Steve said over the comms, watching as Tony flew overhead, taking out a few of the mechanical spiders climbing up the walls of the office building he stood under. He jumped out of the way as one came crashing down in a smoking heap.

Steve liked to keep the chatter down to a minimum. Unfortunately, just because he preferred it that way didn't mean it actually happened, at least not with Tony and Clint on the same team. However, Steve was never one to initiate conversation that was not directly related to the battle at hand over the comms so it probably wasn't surprising that Tony hesitated before responding. "Yeah, Cap?"

"Have you heard about the new diner on 44th?" Steve asked as he ripped a leg off a particularly nasty arachnid. Some kind of hydraulic fluid started leaking from it's thrashing stump as Steve used his shield to crush the rest of the body against the ground.

"Uh, what?"

Steve smiled at Tony's obvious confusion. "I've never been there but Agent Carter was talking about it the other day and thought I might like to try it."

"Um. Yeah, I—"

"Great. How about 8?"

"What?"

Someone snorted over the comm.

"Eight o'clock. Tonight. Are you free?" Steve asked again.

"Yes," Tony said, still clearly confused.

"I'll meet you in the lobby at 7:45."

Thor chose that moment to bring down a shockingly bright bolt of lightning. It struck a rather large cluster of spider-bots that had congregated over a manhole trying to escape, sending a loud screech of feedback through the comms, making everyone flinch.

"Stark! I thought you said you were going to fix that!" Clint yelled.

"Barton, once you figure out how the magical lightning from another fucking realm works, I'd be more than happy to hand over my genius hat!"

Steve grinned and refocused his attention on clearing the streets of their arachnid friends, studiously ignoring the churning of nerves and excitement in his stomach.

* * *

Tony was decidedly not nervous. He refused to be nervous. It was just dinner with Steve, with a teammate. Just because Tony felt dizzy from the loss of blood flow to his head every time Steve put on his Captain America uniform, it didn't change that tonight was simply dinner with a friend. Nothing more. Right. He could do this. He _had _been doing this. Even if Tony wanted to bend Steve over—he cut off that line of thought as quickly as it had come. Just friends. Casual.

"Casual," he said as if the sound of the word would make it true.

He stood before the floor length mirror, buttoning and unbuttoning his cuffs before giving up and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. Dinner with a friend, he could do this.

"Super casual," he mumbled.

"You know I've heard that there's nothing casual about a guy muttering 'casual' to himself over and over again."

Tony whipped his head to the open doorway where Clint was leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest.

"What the fuck, Barton? Didn't your mother teach you manners?"

Clint scoffed. "It's nothing I hadn't already seen before."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Just how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to make me wonder about your already questionable sanity."

Tony sighed. "What do you want, Clint?" He turned back to the mirror and reconsidered changing his shoes. He didn't necessarily have a problem with his height but when men who looked like they could toss him around like a toy constantly surrounded him, it sometimes got to him. He shook his head and walked over to the bar to pour himself a finger of scotch to calm his nerves.

"The rest of us were going to order in and wondered if you wanted anything. I forgot about your date tonight," Clint said, nonchalant, digging out his wallet from his back pocket and taking out a few bills.

Tony sputtered into the drink before wiping his mouth and setting the glass back down. "It's not a—"

"You know, Cap probably wouldn't be too happy with you drinking right before your date," Clint put the wallet back in his pocket and folded the cash in his hand, looking at it a little mournfully.

"It's _not _a—"

"Whatever you say, man." He pushed himself off the doorframe with his hip, gave Tony a knowing grin and turned to leave.

"Have fun on your date, Stark," he said over his shoulder before disappearing out of view.

Tony was proud of himself for not throwing the glass through the doorway, settling for draining the contents into the sink of the wet bar and rinsing it out.

"It's not a date," he said to himself.

"Of course not, sir," JARVIS said smoothly. "I would also like to alert you to the fact that it is 7:40 and Captain Rogers is waiting for you in the lobby."

Tony sighed and rubbed his face with both hands.

"How does he look, J?"

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Does he look nervous?"

"According to my scans, both Captain Rogers's heart rate and respiration are slightly elevated. It is likely, considering the scenario given by Master Barton, that these are the symptoms of anxiety."

"Right," Tony said. "I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse."

"I suppose, sir, it would depend on how you would like to perceive tonight's activities."

Tony sighed and grabbed his leather jacket off the bed. "I guess we'll just have to see how it goes."

"Of course, sir," JARVIS said, shutting of the lights as Tony left the room.

He passed through the common area to pick up the metal cuffs that would call the suit to him if the night happened to go south and spotted Clint and Natasha talking in the kitchen. Clint's back was to him but Tony watched as he put something in her hand that she immediately pocketed with an evil little grin. Natasha spotted him over Clint's shoulder and wiggled her eyebrows. Figuring he was better off not knowing what the Wonder Twins were up to, he just gave a slight nod of his head before heading to the elevator.

When the doors slid open on the ground floor Tony strode across the lobby, his eyes focused on his phone, doing _very important things_, the absolute picture of confidence. Up until the moment he reached Steve and actually looked at the man.

"Tony," Steve grinned. "You're on time."

Tony's jaw did _not _drop.

Alright, so maybe his lips were slightly parted and his teeth weren't touching, but his jaw absolutely did not drop. Steve Rogers in fitted dark wash jeans and a tucked-in navy blue button down shirt and black converse sneakers was just not a sight Tony had been expecting.

He snapped his mouth shut as he pocketed his phone.

"Yeah, there was this thing, but I finished it quicker than I thought I would and—you look. Uh, you look—alright," he said as he gave Steve another once over. "I give up. Who was playing dress up with our resident Ken doll today?"

The corner of Steve's mouth kicked up in a small lopsided grin. "I asked Pepper a couple of weeks ago if she'd help me get a few things. Something a bit more... modern. Just haven't had much of a chance to wear them." He shrugged.

Tony let his eyes do another once over before he nodded. "Right, well. Modern is a good look for you." Tony was clearly going to have to have a talk with Pepper for not telling him about this particular excursion.

Steve's responding smile was virtually blinding. "I certainly hope so," he said, a bright look in his eyes.

Tony found himself leaning in ever so slightly and abruptly straightened himself up. "Should I have Happy pull the car around then?"

Steve shook his head. "I was thinking we could just hoof it. It's not that far."

"Hoof it?" Tony asked, dubiously.

"Walk," Steve said and eyed Tony with a bit of concern. "Are you sure you didn't take a hit this morning? You seem a little..." he trailed off.

"No, no. I'm good. Just a little preoccupied. You want to walk?"

Steve shrugged. "Or we could take my bike."

"Alright, let's walk," he said quickly. Tony had nothing against motorcycles; in fact he thought Steve's bike was a beautiful piece of machinery. However, the thought of being pressed up against Steve with all that vibration between his legs... he didn't think that Steve was keen on getting to know Tony quite that well. _Yet, _the small, hopeful, and broken part of his brain supplied.

Besides, some paparazzi would likely take a picture and then he'd have to deal with that in the morning. Or, rather, Pepper would have to deal with it, and Tony felt like he owed Pepper a gift after seeing what Steve was wearing tonight, and staying out of the tabloids seemed a better idea than yet another pair of shoes. She should be thanking _him_, really.

"Not a fan of motorcycles?" Steve asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Love 'em. Not a fan of having my hair ruined after how much time I just spent on it." The lie rolled off his tongue with ease.

Steve chuckled, eyeing the top of Tony's head. "Next time, then," he said as he started walking towards the door.

Tony's heart gave a weird lurch at the words and he resisted the urge to press his hand against his chest to see if it was still beating and instead simply followed Steve out of the building.

They made their way to the restaurant, enjoying the brisk night air and making small talk, discussing the fight from that afternoon. _Casual_, Tony reminded himself. _Super casual_.

They stopped for a moment when they came upon a crowd watching a street magician dealing cards. Steve had an open smile on his face as he watched the man perform the tricks, the small crowd looking on in awe. Tony rolled his eyes. He could do that in his sleep. Magicians had stopped being fun for him when he was five and outperformed the performer his parents had hired for his birthday party. That didn't stop them from hiring one every birthday until he was twelve, though, leaving Tony to occupy himself as the kids his age stood entranced by magic.

The sound of clapping brought Tony out of his reverie and he jerkily slapped his hands together. Steve noticed his scowl and raised his eyebrows, nudging against Tony's shoulder as they continued to move down the sidewalk.

Tony shrugged and waved his hand in front of him. "I don't care for magicians. It's just slight of hand and diversionary tactics. I could do that before I could walk."

Steve eyed him curiously. "Not everyone has your brain, Tony."

"Eh. Besides, we've seen real magic. Gotta say I don't care much for that either."

Steve shook his head. "I'm pretty sure everyone is well aware on your feelings in that area." Tony grinned beside him and Steve continued. "You know, when I first saw you working in your lab, you were surrounded by all your projections and screens, babbling like a madman, and the first thought I had was that you had to be some kind of wizard."

Tony scoffed as they arrived at the restaurant. "Please. Gandalf has nothing on me," he said, ignoring the warm feeling in his chest. "Besides, my beard is far superior."

Steve gave him another grin as he opened the door, ushering Tony inside. Casual, Tony reminded himself. Not a date.

Tony let Steve take charge, eyeing him while he talked to the hostess, and let himself think. Steve hadn't really given off a vibe one way or another. He wasn't being flirtatious, but he wasn't just being friendly either. He may have walked a bit closer to Tony on the way over, but New York streets were always a bit crowded and Steve was a polite man. Sure, he had taken charge of the not-date, asking Tony out, figuring out the transportation, opening the door for... But this couldn't possibly be a date, could it?

Tony stamped down on the small burst of hope that bloomed his chest. He would just... He would act normal and take his cues from Steve. As much as Tony wanted to fuck Steve into next week, he appreciated the slow friendship they had built far too much to risk blowing it by an ill-timed comment. Not that he had ever stopped himself from flirting with Steve before, of course. But now that the thought had entered Tony's mind, the thought that this could possibly, maybe, be more, he couldn't risk it. Even if Steve had never shown psychic tendencies he sometimes had a frightening ability to know exactly what Tony was thinking.

The hostess, at once quite obviously aware of who the two men were and completely enamored with Steve, lead them to a table conspicuously located right next to the front window. Before Tony could sit, Steve turned to the hostess and gave her a pleading, innocent look that no one with a beating heart would be able to resist and asked, "Sorry, ma'am, do you think we could get a table a little more... discreet?"

The hostess flushed pink and nodded. "Sorry. Sure thing," she said as she glanced between the two of them.

They ended up in the back of the restaurant, tucked into a quiet corner. They ordered their drinks, Tony noticing the small and brief lift in Steve's eyebrows when he ordered a Coke. Clint probably had a point earlier, Tony conceded. He settled his hands on the table, playing with a napkin, tearing off tiny pieces without noticing what he was doing. He looked up to see Steve staring at his hands with a small smile at his lips and stopped, putting the napkin down and clasping them together.

Steve looked up at him, still with that smile on his face. "You're nervous."

It wasn't a question.

False nonchalance was definitely the way to go in response. He relaxed back into the chair, and let a hand fall into his lap. "Of course not. Why would I be nervous?"

Tony inhaled sharply when Steve covered the hand he had left relaxed on the table with his own, his thumb tracing over Tony's knuckles.

"You're the genius. You tell me," Steve said, his smile turning into a smirk.

Tony let go of the breath he hadn't been aware of holding. "So I'm not crazy, then?"

"I don't think I'd go quite that far," Steve said, the smirk still on his lips and Tony shot him a look before responding.

"Jury's still out on that I suppose. But this is... this isn't just an attractive available young man platonically enjoying the company of another attractive available young man?" Tony saw Steve's dubious expression and relented. "Alright, so, I guess the matter of your age is something that could probably be debated for years."

Steve chuckled and Tony let himself give a real smile in return before Steve's face went serious.

"No, this isn't—" Steve paused for a moment, clearly trying to figure out what he wanted to say. "I like you, Tony. I like you as more than just a teammate, more than just a friend. If you're not interested in me, if you don't want the same thing... I can live with that. We can pretend like this never even happened and just go back to normal. But I'd like for something more, I'd like to see where this goes."

Tony wanted this, dear god how he wanted this, but the universe had never seemed too interested in giving him what he wanted. Especially not on a silver platter like this. Or a washboard ab platter, as it may be.

"God, Steve. You have no idea how much I want this." Steve grinned brightly at him at first, and he knew this next part was going to hurt. The grin faded as Steve took in the way Tony had trailed off.

"But?"

Tony sighed. "But I'll fuck this up. Majorly."

"You think I won't?" Steve asked and Tony allowed himself a bitter chuckle at the thought of Steve ever screwing up to the magnitude that Tony had and would always manage.

"I'm good with tech, Steve. I'm good with ones and zeros. I'm good with getting dirty and working with my hands, inventing, creating, and making _things_ work. I'm not so good with people. I can't... I can't make people, make _relationships_, work."

"Tony—" Steve started, his voice low and sympathetic, his thumb still tracing the back of Tony's hand. Tony couldn't bear to move it out from under his grip.

"Just look at Pepper!"

"Pepper." Steve deadpanned.

"Look at how we ended up."

"You mean look at how the two of you managed to go from friends to lovers only to amicably break up when you realized things weren't working out between you? The same Pepper who is still CEO of your company, who still has lunch with you once a week, who still harangues you about making it to board meetings and makes sure you're taking care of yourself? The same Pepper you check in with after every battle, who you obviously still care for, who cares for you even if that no longer means you're together in the more traditional sense? Is that the Pepper you're talking about?"

Tony gave Steve a level look. "Clearly you have been spending a little too much time with said Pepper," Tony said and sighed. "Seriously, Steve. I don't have a good track record with this kind of thing. I've got plenty of experience to prove it."

"And I've got virtually no experience to speak of. We'll average out."

Tony let out a surprised laugh and felt the tension that had been building around them vanish. Steve watched him with bright, clear eyes.

He could do this, right? He was Tony Stark. He was fucking _Iron Man_ for heaven's sake. If he couldn't make a relationship with Captain America—no, if he couldn't make a relationship with Steve Rogers work then there truly was no hope for him.

He lifted his other hand and tentatively let it rest on top of Steve's. "I guess," he said in a voice little more than a whisper, "that even I can't argue with that logic."

He saw Steve look down, clearly hiding the pleased look on his face, but the grip on Tony's hand tightened. Before he had a chance to say anything that would, in all likelihood, ruin the moment, the sound of someone softly clearing their throat snapped them out of it.

Steve flushed slightly and took his hand back to grab his menu. The waitress eyed them with a grin as she set down their drinks. "You guys need more time? I can come back if you'd like," she said cheerfully.

Steve coughed and shook his head. "No. Uh—no. We're good."

They spent the next few minutes discussing their options and listening to the waitress' recommendations while Steve kept making eyes at Tony, looking at his menu and then up at the other man through his eyelashes. Tony had to fight hard to keep the grin off his face. When all was said and done, the waitress begging off with their menus and orders, Tony folded his hands together on the table again.

"I've gotta admit, Cap. I didn't know you were liking the angle of the dangle." Steve's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You're a confirmed bachelor?" Steve still looked lost. "Gay." Tony stated.

"You mean... interested in men?"

"Well if you didn't get that last one, I was going to ask if you liked co—" Steve shot him a look that shut him right up. He wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue, making Steve roll his eyes.

"Yes, well, you should know better than anybody you can't always believe everything you hear. And if I happened to encourage certain... assumptions, it was probably the best for everyone involved."

Tony let out a mock gasp. "You _lied_? But I thought Captain America stood for truth, justice, and the American way?"

Steve laughed. "That's Superman, Tony. And he's fictional."

"Well, to be fair, so are you. You have seen the comics haven't you?"

"Of course I have," Steve said, looking far more embarrassed about that fact than he should. Before Tony could ask what that was about, Steve continued. "Which is exactly why damn well over half of what the public thinks they know about me is wrong." He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Anyway, those comics are about Captain America, not Steve Rogers."

Tony thought back on how much it had hurt when he had read the report prepared by Natasha. Iron Man, yes. Tony Stark, not recommended. He thought of how hard he still fought to be seen as one and the same. He was Iron Man, there was no one or the other. But here Steve was, struggling to separate himself from the Captain America persona, to be his own person. To be something other than the hero. Tony didn't know what to say to that. So he decided to go for something simpler and less likely to start an existential crisis in either man.

"And Peggy?"

"She knew," Steve responded simply. Tony raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"So there was nothing..." he trailed off, picking up his glass and taking a drink.

Steve's eyes went unfocused, staring at some point beyond Tony's head. "If there had to have been one woman I would have managed to make it work with, it would have been her. She was one of the assumptions I encouraged." He paused for a moment. "With her help, of course."

Tony gaped at him. "Peggy was your _beard_?"

"My what?"

Now wasn't the ideal time to explain that particular term. "Never mind, keep going." He waved his hand encouragingly, setting his glass back down.

"We were both in rough spots at the time. Things have come so far..." He trailed off before shaking his head. "Peg was—she was married to her job. She knew it was frowned upon outside of the war effort, for a dame to be working. In the military, no less!" He chuckled lightly. "She was never planning on settling down, she wasn't the type to go quietly into the kitchen and spend her life raising kids. We spent enough time together that she figured me out and when she did, we decided to help each other out. She'd pretend to be my—"

"—your beard." Tony couldn't help but interrupt.

Steve rolled his eyes. "And I was there to fend off the fellas who thought they had a chance with her."

Tony nodded and asked the question despite knowing the answer already, having had JARVIS tell him anything and everything about every member of the team. "What did she end up doing, then? After."

Steve smiled softly, a little sad. "She kept on working. Never married. Rose up the ranks and gave them hell. She managed just fine without me."

Tony knew he would never be able to understand what Steve went through, what Steve was still going through. The only thing he could do was try to do his best at reminding Steve that maybe the future wasn't so bad after all. This time it was Tony who covered Steve's hand with his own and his breath caught in his throat when Steve looked into his eyes, open and honest.

Tony could never get over it, not that he'd tell anyone, the way he felt when Steve would turn his focus entirely onto him. All that righteousness, all the bravery. A man who never backed down from a fight, never avoided confrontation, always did what he thought-no, what he knew-was right. It was a little awe inspiring to be the subject of Steve's attention. Tony often didn't think he was worthy, sometimes avoiding eye contact all together. Not tonight, though. Tonight he held Steve's gaze with a small smile as he felt the fire burn inside his chest.

* * *

The rest of the date went by in a considerably lighter mood. They spent the evening joking and flirting, Steve always giving just as good as Tony. Seeing Steve be so free and, well, a bit dorky, just made the fire in Tony's chest grow hotter. They fought over the check, Steve insisting on paying since he initiated the date, Tony insisting on paying since he was Tony. It only ended when Steve told Tony he could pay next time and while Tony sat a little bit in shock over Steve already planning on a next time, Steve, the sneaky fucker, managed to pay before Tony's brain rebooted. Tony resisted buying the restaurant on principle. But only just.

The walk back to the tower was done in mostly companionable silence, the two of them stealing glances at each other and sharing goofy smiles when they caught one another doing so. Tony knew Steve, by his own admission, wasn't terribly experienced in post-date customs and likely wouldn't go for more than a kiss goodnight at the door, but that didn't stop the slow creep of nerves in Tony's stomach.

Tony's assumptions on Steve's dating habits were thrown out the minute they entered the tower's elevator. When the doors closed he immediately found the super soldier looming over him, making him take a step back straight into the elevator wall. He looked up and raised his eyebrows in question. Steve placed a hand on the wall next to Tony's head and inclined his own head down.

"I had a really nice time tonight, Tony."

He didn't allow Tony the chance to respond in kind before he brought his other hand up to Tony's chin and tilted the shorter man's head up. Steve leaned in the rest of the way and pressed his warm lips to Tony's.

Tony let himself sink into the kiss for a moment, into the belief that he could have this. That he could have Steve. The date had gone well, they had flirted and the banter between them had been mostly relaxed. Tony awarded himself a point every time he got a laugh or smile out of Steve and he was feeling like he was winning whatever game he had decided to play. But now, with his back pressed into the wall and Steve pressed into his front, something shifted. Suddenly it was all too real, and it was the reality of it all that brought him crashing down from whatever high he had been floating on.

Tony tried to jump back, but being stuck between a wall and a hard place, the only thing he managed to accomplish was banging his head rather loudly. He winced in pain and Steve took a step back, his face the very definition of concern.

"What—are you okay?" Steve asked, using his, rather massive—Tony thought belatedly—hand to rub over the back of Tony's head.

Tony needed to just say yes and work out an excuse to break this off before it really began, before it was too late and he ruined everything.

"No."

Steve looked at him with even more worry written onto his face than Tony thought possible.

"I—Steve..." Tony looked up into astonishingly blue eyes and shook his head. "This is going to end horribly."

"Maybe," Steve said and Tony was shocked into silence for a moment by his agreement.

But only for a moment.

"Right so we should—"

"There's also every possibility that we could die tomorrow trying to save the world." Steve shrugged.

Tony opened his mouth to argue, but Steve cut him off again.

"Tony, with us, with our lives, nothing is going to be easy. We all have experience with that fact. I want this, I want it something awful, and I thought you wanted it too. Now, if you aren't attracted to me, if you don't really want this, then that's one thing. That's on the level. I've already told you we can go back to normal. But don't try to push me away out of some misguided sense of heroism; don't do this because you think you aren't worth it to me. You are. Don't try to take away my choice, I can make my own and I choose you." He smiled, stepping forward again, leaving only a few inches between the two. "After all, I'm older than you. I think that's supposed to makes me wiser."

Tony looked up into Steve's eyes and saw nothing but outright conviction and pure adoration. Knowing he was heading for the deep end, he took a deep breath.

"Looks like you've got me there, old man."

Steve grinned and leaned in, his lips dangerously close to Tony's ear. "That's not the only place I'd like to have you."

The rush of blood that drained from his head and went straight to his cock at Steve's words was staggering. His breath hitched in his throat as Steve pulled back to look down at him, eyes aflame and smile absolutely wicked. Tony felt himself fall a little bit more in love with him in that moment. The man with the cookie cutter exterior, the awe-shucks grin, and manners that made the Pope look like a sinner had been hiding a very naughty center and Tony couldn't wait to unwrap him.

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "Your place or mine?"

The elevator dinged, Tony mentally high-fiving JARVIS' impeccable timing, and Steve glanced over his shoulder as the door opened. He turned back to face Tony. "Looks like yours," he said, putting a finger through Tony's belt loop and dragging him into another kiss. Steve's lips were soft and warm against his, but Tony felt the hesitation behind it, he felt Steve waiting for him to pull away again.

And suddenly Tony was angry with himself. Steve had been taking charge of the entire night. From asking him out, to the date, and now to the post date coital-_he hoped_-events. This couldn't stand. He was Tony fucking Stark and this was one area at which he excelled. So he took control of the kiss. He nipped and sucked at Steve's lips, running his hands along Steve's waist before slipping them under his shirt. When Steve moaned, Tony took the opportunity and licked his way into his mouth.

He pressed against Steve and they stumbled back into Tony's penthouse in a flurry of hands, lips, teeth and tongue. Tony pushed Steve's shirt up, breaking the kiss just long enough to get it off entirely before he was back on him, his hands blindly exploring the expanse of chest in front of him. At that moment the only urge stronger than the urge to sing 'God Bless America' was the urge to get the rest of Steve's clothing off.

Steve, luckily, seemed to be on the same wavelength. His hands, which had mostly been preoccupied with holding Tony's face as close to his as possible, started roaming, gripping Tony's shoulders and upper arms tightly before running paths up and down Tony's back. One hand finally delved under the back Tony's shirt before his fingers dipped into the waistline of his jeans, pressing hard into the soft flesh of Tony's ass.

Tony let out an impatient noise and pushed Steve, leading him towards the bedroom down the hall. They made it there eventually, laughing as they stumbled, shedding bits and pieces of clothing, pressing each other into walls to cop a feel as they went. By the time the backs of Tony's knees were pushed against the foot of the bed, they were both standing in only their pants. Tony felt giddier than he had since the first Iron Man flight and more turned on than he could remember being since college.

Tony's fingers pressed into the smooth and firm flesh of Steve's broad shoulders as Steve sucked a bruise into the pulse point of Tony's neck. He let one hand trail down Steve's side, over to his abs, tracing the lines marking the valleys between the firm muscles. Finally his hand drifted lower and he cupped Steve, feeling the stiff evidence of his arousal through his jeans. Steve ground into Tony's hand and bit into to the tendon of Tony's neck before he stilled and pulled back.

Tony looked up and saw the flash of uncertainty across Steve's face.

"Too fast?" He asked. Sure, he'd have to go jack off in the bathroom if this didn't happen, but he wanted Steve ready and willing. Tony was never one to pressure his partners into something they didn't want.

"No," Steve said, a little breathless and dazed and Tony smirked. "I just—I told you. I don't have a lot of experience with this."

Tony nodded and brought Steve's head back down with his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before speaking.

"Want me to take the lead, then?" He asked, their foreheads resting together, Tony pressing his hips into Steve's and grinding lightly against him.

"Nngh," Steve said as he nodded.

"I have no problem with that whatsoever," Tony said. In a single move so smooth he'd likely never be able to replicate it, he gave Steve a long and steamy kiss, unbuckled his belt, turned the soldier around and, holding tight to the buckle, pushed him with all his strength. It sent Steve sprawling onto his back on the middle of the bed, the belt still in Tony's hand. He grinned and looped the belt, snapping it as his eyes raked up and down Steve's body. It was the first time since he'd gotten Steve's shirt off that he'd had a chance to really _look_ and god did he love what he saw.

Steve leaned up on his elbows; giving Tony the same look Tony must have given him. His eyes roamed all over Tony's chest, a smile flitting over his lips as his eyes caught on the bright light of the arc reactor before moving back up to meet Tony's gaze.

"You waiting for an order?" Steve's eyebrows went up in challenge as he asked.

"No, sir. Just enjoying the view." Tony might have problems with authority in the field but he'd never had them in bed.

He tossed the belt to the floor and walked around to the side of the bed, feeling Steve's eyes boring holes into him as he moved. He opened the top drawer of his nightstand, grabbing a sleek bottle before he climbed up onto the bed, straddling Steve's hips and grinding down. He saw Steve's eyes go unfocused and he grinned, leaning forward to kiss him once more before he began mapping Steve's body with his tongue.

He left a slick, wet trail down the side of Steve's neck, nipping at the skin, circling his tongue around a nipple, tracing the lines of his abdomen and dipping his tongue into Steve's navel. He dropped the bottle into the sheets, needing both hands as he undid Steve's jeans.

The muscles in Steve's stomach jumped with every brush of Tony's fingers and he looked up at Steve, who was once again leaning back on his elbows completely enraptured, watching what Tony was doing. Steve nodded once and Tony hooked his fingers under the waistband of his jeans and boxers, shuffling back and then standing up as he peeled the garments off.

Steve's cock was flushed and hard against his stomach, a glistening bead at the tip and Tony involuntarily licked his lips. Tony undressed himself, appreciating the way Steve watched him like Tony was a glass of water and he was the man stranded in the desert, dying of thirst.

He crawled back onto the bed, shifting Steve's legs so he was sitting between his knees. Steve was still on his elbows, watching Tony's every movement.

"Alright, there's no rush here and I'm not planning on doing everything tonight. I'm just going to give you a little preview of sorts. See if you like a few things. But if I do anything at all that you don't like, anything that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me to stop and I'll stop. No guilt. This is entirely about you feeling good."

Steve swallowed audibly. "And what about you?"

Tony grinned. "Don't worry about me, I always make sure to have a good time. But I need you to let me know if I do something you don't like, alright?"

Steve just nodded dumbly, pupils wide with lust.

Tony didn't say anything in response, just scooted further back on the bed to give himself room to work. He rubbed both hands up and down Steve's thighs, watching as he twitched with the movement, before he bent down and trailed his tongue from Steve's navel to the crease where his leg met his body. He felt the man's breath catch and rubbed slow circles into the flesh, inhaling Steve's scent before he lifted his head. Looking at Steve from under his lashes, seeing his darkened eyes, Tony sunk his mouth onto the head of Steve's cock. He watched as Steve melted back into the bed, letting out a soft 'oh' as his elbows refused to hold him up any longer.

He stifled the desire to grin, instead focusing on the task at hand. He took in as much as he could, hollowing his cheeks and using the flat of his tongue to tease, and took the rest in hand, working in a steady rhythm. His head and hand moved in conjunction with one another, slowly, starting from the bottom and working his way to the top to swirl his tongue around the tip before sinking back down and starting over again.

Tony moaned at the taste of Steve on his tongue, salty and slightly bitter. He felt his own cock straining with desire and he palmed himself carefully as he worked up and down Steve's shaft, listening to him invoke Tony's name and moan softly.

Tony worked him slowly, building him up just to break him down, feeling Steve's hips move under him of their own accord. After a few minutes he lifted off of Steve with an obscenely loud, wet noise. Steve made a couple more aborted thrusts into the air, groaning with the sudden cessation of feeling.

Tony grabbed the small bottle off the bed and looked up at Steve. He had an arm thrown across his eyes, his face flushed red and chest heaving.

"I'm going to try something new now," Tony said, his voice hoarse. "If you don't like it let me know and I can just go back to what we were doing. You seemed to like that," he finished with a smirk.

Steve managed to mumble a noise of assent and Tony opened the bottle with a soft click and slicked up his fingers with lube, a little too generously. He bent down and took Steve back into his mouth, still using a hand to assist, but now running the other hand up Steve's thigh, trying to telegraph what he was about to do. He kept up his rhythm, his free hand now massaging Steve's balls slowly before letting fingers slip behind them, tracing up the crease lightly, hearing Steve's breath stutter.

He kept the motion up for a few moments, letting Steve become accustomed to his fingers, and when Steve spread his legs wider, Tony took that as permission to press forward, running just one finger around Steve's entrance before he pushed in. The silky wet heat combined with Steve's breathy, "Oh, God. _Tony_," made his own cock jump with desire.

He worked Steve for awhile with his mouth and just the one finger. Steve's moans became less and less audible as Tony took him apart slowly, inch by inch. He picked up the pace as he pushed another finger, twisting and curling them inside.

He was rewarded quickly.

"Jesus Christ," Steve moaned when Tony finally hit the right spot, thrusting up into his mouth a little harder than before.

Tony kept it up, two fingers, in and out, as he worked Steve over with his mouth and tongue. It wasn't long before Steve seemed to force himself to speak again.

"Tony. Oh, God. Tony, I'm going to—" Tony kept going, encouraging him with his own moan. The vibration from Tony's throat must have been the key and Steve toppled over the edge, a burst of warmth followed by the salty taste spreading over Tony's tongue. He worked Steve through his orgasm, slowing down the movement of his fingers and sucking him dry until he felt Steve's hips twitching.

He withdrew his fingers, wiping them discreetly on the sheet, before settling back on his knees, grinning as he watched Steve come back to his senses. Steve caught him off guard, surging up and capturing Tony's mouth in a filthy kiss, pressing his tongue in like he was trying to chase after the taste of himself, gripping the back of Tony's head almost painfully. He relented for a moment to let Tony surface for air, pinning him with eyes full of lust and desire. With that look Tony's neglected cock leapt to attention, his veins burning with the need to be touched by Steve.

Steve looked down between them and licked his lips. "What would you like—"

"Fuck, Steve," Tony interrupted. "Just touch me. I don't care what you do, I just need your fucking hands on me right now."

Steve let out something akin to a growl as he pushed Tony onto his back. He pinned Tony's legs beneath one of his own, resting on his side next to him. His hand trailed down Tony's chest, circling the arc reactor for just a moment, before taking Tony's mouth with his and wrapping his hand around Tony's cock. Tony arched up into the touch, moaning into Steve's kiss.

Steve may have started out intending to tease Tony just as long as he had been teased but it wasn't long before Tony was thrusting into Steve's fist, wanton and needy, desperate for release. Their kiss turned into something sloppy, a clash of lips and tongues, Tony losing all his finesse and practice as he inched closer and closer to bliss, and when Steve bit down on Tony's bottom lip, it was all over.

He moaned Steve's name as he spilled into his hand, his back bowing in pleasure, his voice barely there. Steve kept at it until Tony settled back down into the bed, panting and flushed with sweat. His eyes were closed, but he felt Steve release him and the shifting of the bed as he got up. He followed the sound of Steve's bare feet padding across the carpet to the bathroom, the click of the light and the running of water. He didn't open his eyes back up until he felt the warm, wet washcloth on his stomach, cleaning up the mess.

Tony watched as Steve finished up and balled the washcloth, throwing it into the hamper in the corner of the room. His eyes were warm and soft when they met his, a small, private smile playing on his lips, cheeks still slightly tinged red from their activities.

It was in that moment that Tony knew that he would do whatever it took to make things work between them. The small smile Steve was giving him would be worth everything.

* * *

Steve woke early. The sun was just under the horizon, the grey light of dawn casting everything into a dream-like haze. His eyes traced over the foreign furniture, the sleek angles, and the high-tech gadgets strewn about the room. He never would have imagined this, Before. The future was a scary and dizzying thing to him even still. He looked around at the unfamiliar sights and objects and brought his hand up to rest on the mop of brown hair on the head currently resting on his chest. Steve grinned when he felt the small wet patch that was growing slowly, letting him know that Tony was likely still out for the count.

If the future was a scary and dizzying thing, the man that was currently sprawled out on top of him was even more so. He knew it would be a rough road, knew it wouldn't be smooth sailing with Tony, but he also knew it would be worth every bump and every iceberg. There would be fights that would test his resolve and there would be times he would want to leave but Tony... Tony was like the cars he had stored in the garage, all sleek and powerful. And, Steve thought to himself, where was the fun in taking one out without a few twists and turns in the road?

The future was a scary and dizzying place to be‚ but as Tony clung to him, like an anchor keeping him in the present, he knew it was worth it.


End file.
